


Shadows Settle on the Place (That You Left)

by crankyrage



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, in which Tazer is so oblivious it's a little sad, oh boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 10:36:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crankyrage/pseuds/crankyrage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are normal, functioning people, and then there’s Patrick Kane. Johnny resigns that these things never overlap. Ever. Seriously. So, to say that Johnny’s surprised when Kaner catches on before him, is the understatement of the last century.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows Settle on the Place (That You Left)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello, again. I have been writing quite a bit lately. Procrastination at its finest. Anyhow, this is a self-indulgent, slightly longer fic. It's pretty fluffy. You have been warned. I didn't really proof-read other than a quick re-read, so there will probably be mistakes, and they're all my own.
> 
> Title taken from Daughter's Youth.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing and mean no harm by using any real-life person or their likeness; this is simply a work of fiction for entertainment value.

There are normal, functioning people, and then there’s Patrick Kane. Johnny resigns that these things never overlap. Ever. Seriously.

Johnny may not be the most high-functioning adult. But, he’s not inept. He may like Mario Kart more than any grown man should. He may also not be very good at cooking. He may not be able to remember which day is garbage day, even though it’s always the same and has been for years. He has his faults, okay. He knows he’s not the most mature adult on the planet. He knows he may be – well, he wouldn’t say emotionally stunted – but he knows he may not be that great about talking about his feelings.

But, Kaner – Patrick is just – it’s like he’s not even a real person. It’s like he is caricature of a Peter Pan-esque hockey player with terrible hair and an even worse disposition. 

Johnny knows this and has known this for a matter of years – basically since he first met a kid that literally looked like he could be walking down the hall of any high school in America.

Kaner, who is convinced Twilight is a literary classic, whose mom still calls him to remind him not to forget things on long road trips, who thinks a poptart counts as a meal, who owns every Bring It On sequel on DVD. Kaner – who is the absolutely the most ridiculous person Johnny’s ever met in his entire life – a life that has included two years of college antics with T.J. Oshie – T.J. Fucking Broshie.

To say that Johnny’s surprised when Kaner catches on before him, is the understatement of the last century.

It starts when Patrick goes to fucking Switzerland with Tyler Seguin, of all people. It’s not that Johnny has anything against the kid or anything, he just can’t trust someone who appreciates mullets and goes from having no tattoos to like an entire sleeve in less than six months or something – it’s just too alarming for Johnny to understand. It’s perfectly reasonable to feel wary of a Kaner/Segs unity. Seriously, it’s just a disaster waiting to happen.

Before he goes, Kaner’s not exactly pleased with Johnny – that might be quite the understatement, too – he’s pretty pissed, actually. 

“You said you were going to go—“ Kaner yells at him drinking Johnny’s expensive beer on his couch, when he doesn’t even appreciate the superior taste.

“You know why I can’t, Kaner,” Johnny shouts back because they’ve had this conversation about a million and six times.

“Fuck you,” Kaner retorts shoving Johnny hard in the shoulder, “You said—“

“I know what I said!” Johnny returns angrily, “It’s just not the right timing! I have to stay and get this shit worked out! I’m not ready to give up, yet!”

“That’s what you think I’m doing!” Kaner yells incredulously, “Giving up?”

“I didn’t say that, Patrick,” Johnny tries keeping his voice even.

“That’s what it sounded like!”

“I’m just not like you!” Johnny huffs slamming his beer bottle against the coffee table with an audible thud, “I can’t just go and play somewhere else and hope this shit gets worked out – I need to have some input! I need some control.”

“You’re a fucking freak, asshole,” Kaner replies back but the bite he had earlier seems to have left.

“We’re done,” Johnny replies firmly hoping that his tone reflects how much he is absolutely through with this conversation.

Patrick looks grim but chooses not to respond to that.

That’s it, for a while. Kaner goes to Switzerland, and Johnny puts on expensive suits and puts on his best intimidation face for the cameras; he and Crosby have really gotten it down to a science.

Johnny never does join Patrick in Switzerland, and they never really talk about it again. They don’t really – talk, that is. Johnny finds it a little strange that Kaner’s distant, especially because Sharpy keeps telling him about the phone calls he keeps getting about Patrick’s tragic European loneliness. Johnny tries not to clench his fists when he wonders when Sharpy became the person Patrick turned to with his obnoxious 3 am phone calls. Johnny used to be that person, and he doesn’t know why he’s not anymore. He’s way better than Sharpy. He’s got the fucking C.

They text a little, but it’s always little fragmented clips just telling each other they’re still alive. Johnny doesn’t really know what happened. They used to be _KaneandToews_ and _KanerandTazer_ – one entity on the ice and off – and now they’re just Pat and Johnny – all separate and shit. Johnny doesn’t know why the idea makes him a little dizzy.

The thing is, he always knew that the weird co-dependent shit that they do was eventually going to run its course. It’s not like he thought they were going to be 40 year-old men still doing their pig-tail pulling routines, all up in each other’s lives and space all the time.

But, he – and this may make him a terrible person – he always figured that he’d be the one that would kind of put the space between them. He’d always been the more mature one – ready to take on responsibilities. He just figured, eventually, he’d get serious about a girl and he and Kaner would just kind of drift a little. They’d always be friends – best friends – if Johnny’s being entirely sincere, but he always thought that eventually they’d get rid of the living out of each other’s pockets.

Now that it’s kind of happened, though, he doesn’t know what to do – especially because Kaner’s the one pulling way. Kaner’s the one that’s forgetting to return his phone calls. Kaner’s the one that’s stopped over-sharing during their conversations. Kaner’s the one that’s stopped including Johnny in every aspect and decision in his life. It hurts a lot more than Johnny could have anticipated, and he is aware about how truly pathetic that probably makes him.

The lockout does finally end, after a lot of hard work and frustration – with a side of a lesson in how-to-look-entirely-unimpressed-in-every-photograph by Jonathan Toews and Sidney Crosby.

Kaner doesn’t even call him when he gets back into town, even though Johnny knows exactly when his flight is, which, that might seem creepy to some – but it’s Kaner – so Johnny stopped feeling creepy in like 2009.

Johnny gives him a couple days – to like adjust to being in real civilization or whatever – but then it’s two days before the abbreviated training camp starts, and he’s starting to get worried. So, he might just take an evening jog – in January – and just happen to be in the vicinity of Kaner’s apartment. Any decent friend would stop in if they happened to be in the neighborhood – it wasn’t even a stretch.

Kaner doesn’t look too pleased to see him, but he doesn’t look angry or anything he just looks tried, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Johnny says back, “I was just jogging—“

Kaner just shrugs and lets him in not even chirping his horribly veiled excuse.

They sit down and watch whatever shitty reality-TV show Kaner has on and enter into what Johnny believes is the most awkward, tense silence of their entire friendship, and he doesn’t even know why.

“You didn’t have to come here to like checkup on me or whatever you’re doing, Captain,” Kaner says after about a half-hour of pin-dropping silence, “I’m an adult, y’know.”

Johnny opens his mouth to chirp him but something about Kaner’s tone and general demeanor tells him that’s a poor idea, “I know.”

“We’re both adults, Johnny, and professionals – so you don’t have to do whatever or say whatever you came over to say. I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“Okay—“ Johnny responds tentatively because he isn’t actually sure what Kaner’s talking about, but he doesn’t sound fine.

“I’m just saying. I can get over it, you just – space. I need space, still – thought that I didn’t cause of being gone for so long – but – fuck – just a little more, okay?”

Johnny’s really not sure what he’s talking about, but he looks so earnest, which is so rare on Patrick’s face, Johnny doesn’t really ask, “Okay, Kaner.”

He leaves shortly after that, and they don’t talk anymore. Johnny feels a little bewildered and kind of like he got hit behind by a truck – and he doesn’t really know what to do with anything that he’s feeling.

At least he gets hockey back, he guesses.

He doesn’t really have time to lament on Kaner’s weirdness because suddenly there’s hockey, and his boys, and the fucking streak – scratch that – The Streak – because it definitely deserves capital letters.

Kaner’s also – he’s fucking amazing on the ice. He’s just on fire. Johnny’s never seen him play better. He’s even starting getting the hang of really playing good two-way hockey. Just the thought makes Johnny’s heart swell a little with pride.

Off the ice though, he’s still a pretty big mess. He’s not Cinco De Mayo levels of hot mess, exactly, but he’s vastly approaching that level. Johnny hasn’t seen Patrick look well rested since the season’s start. He always comes into the locker room looking like he’s three steps away from sleeping for six days. His hair’s a wreck – which isn’t new, but he’s not even pretending to try to look presentable. Kaner’s hockey is on fire, but his personal life seems to really been beat down. He’s lost his light – his sunshine. Johnny doesn’t know whom to blame; he doesn’t like to think about it really, because it makes his heart clench really uncomfortably.

Things are weird. Johnny can’t exactly put his finger on it because no one’s being blatantly angry or mean or rude to him. A lot of his teammates seem a little colder to him than usual. Sharpy doesn’t e-mail him an abundance of baby pictures every week anymore. Seabs isn’t trying to embarrass him in front of the rookies by telling them every little detail of what living with a bright-eyed 19 year-old Johnny looked like. Duncs isn’t giving him his silent approval when Johnny looks up at him during intermission and desperately needs to know he isn’t fucking up too badly. Hoss – well, he’s still treating Johnny the same, but he seems distant and doesn’t chat amicably between periods when it’s not about hockey. Johnny doesn’t really get it. He didn’t do anything – maybe he’s just becoming really paranoid in his old age – maybe everyone’s just really focused after the break – that’s probably it.

But, he can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong – different.

So, Kaner’s being weird, and everyone else is a little off, but he doesn’t really bring it up because they’re fucking winning. They’re doing great, and he doesn’t want to break that magic. 

The thing is, now Johnny doesn’t really want to concentrate on this fact because there are so many other things about his relationship with Kaner, but they haven’t hooked up all year. It’s especially strange given all the winning they’ve been doing.

It’s not that it’s a thing – but it kind of is. There is no better sex than victory sex – and everyone’s seen Kaner and that fucking mouthguard; (which Johnny did not have a sulking moment when he found out it was being retired for good) so it’s not surprising that victory sex with Kaner is not only good, it’s fucking phenomenal – because it’s Kaner and his mouth and his enthusiasm and winning and hockey and sex. It’s basically everything Johnny likes in the entire world rolled into one.

It’s an unspoken thing; it has been since they were rookies. It’s stopped between the (short, if he’s being honest) periods in which they’d been, respectively, in relationships. But, they always seem to come back to each other – falling into bed after a big win, high on winning and hockey and each other.

Neither of them is seeing anyone now, but they still haven’t found their way into any sexual situations. There haven’t even been any messy handjobs or blowjobs or make-outs the night after a particularly hot goal, move, or win.

Johnny feels like he’s treading water. He doesn’t want to rock the boat with Kaner – because he told him to give him space. But, how much space can he want? Why does he even need it in the first place?

They’re at home between games and Sharpy and Hoss have finally both returned to practice. The mood in the locker room is light. Sharpy with a little kick from Shawsy are chirping the hell out of Kaner for his continued terrible man crush on LeBron James. It’s kind of hilarious – and Kaner totally has the heart-eyes for that guy. Anyone and everyone can see it.

Johnny’s feeling good and loose, and so, when he passes by Kaner’s stall on the way to the showers, he snaps a towel at him and tells him to keep trying to hit that.

The room goes silent – absolutely pin-dropping silent. Kaner’s avoiding his gaze looking like he wants to shrink into the locker room floor, and Sharpy’s giving him the biggest death stare he’s ever seen him muster.

“Not cool, Jon,” Seabs says breaking the trance over the room, “C’mon.”

Everyone kind of quietly goes about his business after that, and Johnny is just dumbfounded. Is he not even allowed to try to joke around anymore? He knows he’s not good at it, but c’mon!

He gets home, and he paces around his apartment trying to figure out what the hell is going on. He just can’t take it anymore. He can’t take not knowing.

So, he gets in his car and drives to Kaner’s place. He waves to the doorman, who smiles at him and lets him up.

Kaner frowns when he answers the door. He’s in ratty sweats and a threadbare team USA t-shirt. His feet are bare, and Johnny feels something lurch in his chest. He’s missed this. He’s missed seeing Kaner relaxed, not feeling like he has to put on a show for the rookies, the media, and the cameras. Johnny hasn’t really seen a lot of that Kaner since the season’s started.

“Hey,” Johnny says awkwardly, and Patrick blinks at him sliding back to let him in.

Kaner doesn’t say anything; he just lets Johnny trail him into the family room of his apartment where he’s watching reruns of Entourage.

They watch in tense silence for a while, neither of them laughing at the exploits of the gang because laughter is far from both of their minds. Johnny’s pretty sure he’d choke on the sound at this point.

“Look – I’m sorry for whatever happened in the locker room today – I don’t really get it, but I’m sorry.”

Kaner meets his eyes warily running a hand over his face, “I – I’m trying really hard, okay? But, it’s not easy for me like it is for you. I can’t joke about it yet.”

Johnny frowns, “About what?”

Patrick frowns in return rolling his eyes slightly, “Us, asshole – it’s a little fresh.”

“What’s with that anyway?” Johnny asks after a few silent moments, “Like – what are we doing? Why are you being so weird?”

“Why am I being weird?” Patrick counters his voice rising slightly, “I don’t really know how else to be given the circumstances! Haven’t you ever heard of a grace period?”

“For what?” Johnny shoots back.

“For like finding fucking equilibrium after major changes in your life!” Kaner retorts and Johnny can actually see some fire in his eyes.

“What are you even talking about? The lockout?” Johnny asks.

“What the fuck!” Kaner rolls his eyes shoving Johnny off-balance, “No! I’m not talking about the goddamn lockout, asshole. I’m talking about us!”

“What about us, Kaner?” Johnny retorts sighing heavily, “We’re still the same – at least I am – you’re the one that’s being all weird and tense and won’t let me touch you and that one time when I tried to blow you in the showers—“

“I couldn’t even believe you tried that! Were you being serious? God, Johnny, you just can’t do that!”

“Why not?” 

“Because you broke my fucking heart!” Kaner shouts back face red with anger, “So you don’t get to initiate casual fucking sex because hockey gets you hot.”

“What?” Johnny squeaks a few moments later.

“I’m still not over it, okay?” Patrick responds voice back to a suitable level, “I said I needed space – I still need it.”

“What?” Johnny repeats dumbly.

“I can’t just let things go back to the way they were or whatever – I’m too – it hurts too much, okay? I’m working on it. You gotta let me work on it,” Patrick says softly wiping at his eyes.

“Kaner,” Johnny replies slowly locking eyes with Kaner’s tear-filled ones, “I don’t have any idea what you’re going on about.”

Patrick bites is lip a few tears making their way down his cheeks, “I know it was months ago – you’ve always been better about grinning and baring – but you were like it, for me Johnny; I can’t help it if it’s going to take a while to get over the fact that you don’t feel the same.”

“What are you talking about?” Johnny questions again because he hates it when Kaner cries, and he doesn’t fucking understand.

“I’m sorry I can’t take our breakup as well as you,” Kaner rolls his eyes trying to stop the tears.

“Our what?” Johnny counters head spinning.

“C’mon, Johnny can’t we just—“

“Holy shit,” Johnny blinks in realization, “Not only did we ‘break-up’ without me noticing,” he pauses swallowing the lump in his throat, “We were in a relationship, and I didn’t even know.”

It’s Patrick’s turn to look dumbfounded, “What?”

“I – since when were we together?” Johnny asks quietly.

“I mean we never said anything – but we both stopped fucking other people like almost two and half years ago, Johnny. And we – fuck – we both have drawers in each other’s bedrooms and sometimes we make-out with out the pretense of sex – and we cuddle and spend a lot of fucking time together. Last Christmas, we had a joint Christmas with both of our families—“

“Yeah but,” Johnny starts to retort but – huh, that does sound an awful lot like a relationship, “We broke up?”

“You broke up with me, asshole,” Patrick says his face a cross between bewilderment, horror, anger, and pain.

“No I didn’t!” Johnny responds back harshly because you can’t break up with someone if you didn’t know you were together.

“Yes you did!” Patrick says back angrily, “You told me we were done, remember? Before I went to Switzerland.”

Johnny blinks trying to remember the conversation, “I told you we were done – as in we were going to stop having the conversation about me going with. I wanted to stop talking about it. I didn’t – I wasn’t breaking up with you, Kaner,” Johnny pauses looking at Patrick’s reddened face, “Is that why you were so weird while you were over there and stopped returning my calls and wouldn’t skype me and were being super cryptic with the text messages? You thought I broke up with you?”

“Yes!” Patrick counters, “And you didn’t really do anything to change my mind!”

“I didn’t even know we were together!” Johnny shouts back.

“Because you’re a giant asshole!”

Johnny doesn’t really know how to respond to that so he just kind of sits there dumbfounded.

Kaner gets up and starts pacing in front of him, “I gave you almost two and half years of my life and spent years before that wanting more than all that fucking casual sex – and I finally think we’re on the same page – and then you go and break up with me before I make a huge life decision – and I’m supposed to believe that you didn’t even think we were together? You only thought we were casually fucking for almost five years? What the fuck is wrong with you, Johnny?”

“Kaner—“

“You’re an even bigger asshole than I thought you were. I thought you were fed up with me after Cinco De Mayo and Switzerland was the last straw. I thought you just couldn’t be with someone who was so unstable – I thought that I just – I thought I was the problem. Holy fuck, I’ve been beating myself up about this for months – and you didn’t even know? What planet do you live on, Tazer?”

“Pat—“

“Don’t even. I can’t even look at you right now.”

“I – holy fuck, Kaner. I didn’t mean to—“

“Yeah, well,” Patrick retorts wiping at his eyes pacing increasing in speed, “You did. You are the biggest fucking asshole – I don’t – how am I supposed to get over this?”

“You don’t – fuck – I miss you, Kaner. I really miss you.”

“Oh my fucking god, Johnny. If you fucking think that you’re going to say that, and I’m going to forgive you, you have another thing coming. I thought we were together – I thought we were in a long-term relationship. I thought we were bridging on forever. I loved you, and you thought I was just a casual lay that you could just toss around—“

Johnny winces, “That’s not true, Kaner. You’re my best friend!”

“Yeah, well if that’s how you treat your friends, remind me not to get on your bad side, Tazer.”

Johnny mumbles something incomprehensible, and Kaner starts walking towards the foyer of his apartment, “Get out. Don’t even think about coming back. Don’t even think about talking to me if it doesn’t have to do with hockey. Fuck, you better not even say anything nice about me to the media. We’re done, Johnny. We’re not friends. We’re not anything. You’re basically dead to me except when we have a job to do, okay? Get out.”

Johnny leaves, begrudgingly. He paces around his apartment all night, picking up his phone and dialing Kaner and hanging up at least two dozen times. 

He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to feel.

But, he has the sinking feeling that he’s ruined the best thing in his life.

Everyone on the team can sense the tension and feel the shift between Patrick and Johnny. No one really says anything, at least to him about it. It kind of becomes the elephant in the room. Luckily, though, Kaner doesn’t seem to be discussing Johnny’s terribleness with anyone else, either.

Johnny feels pretty awful. Actually, he feels like a complete and utter asshole. If someone else had treated Kaner the way that he has, he would have punched that guy’s lights out so fast. He’s kind of starting to hate himself.

They beat Nashville at home a few days later in a shootout. The game probably shouldn’t have gone that far, but it feels good to win at home; so given everything, Johnny can’t really be that upset about it. They have to be better, but he’ll take it for now.

He doesn’t want to go out. But, Saader gives him sad eyes when he stumbles over his words trying to find an excuse. He’s kind of Johnny’s rookie, even though he’s probably not allowed to admit that aloud. In the end, he can’t find a good reason not to go out with the boys, other than the realization he just kind of wants to go home and sit in the dark and drink himself into a stupor. He feels pathetic about that – just because he’s an asshole, doesn’t mean he has to be pathetic about it.

He ends up drinking more than he should. Which, he probably should have seen coming, but yet, is still surprised when he leans over and places a hand on Sharpy’s shoulder in their back both at the bar and says, “Holy fuck, I’m drunk.”

Sharpy laughs and pats his cheek, “Captain Obvious.”

Sharpy and Seabs laugh at his pun fist-bumping, and Duncs looks vaguely impressed from his other side.

“I wish Kaner were here,” Johnny slurs tiredly slumping into his seat a little more, “Why isn’t he here?”

Sharpy narrows his eyes a little, “I think you could tell us that.”

Shawsy looks increasingly uncomfortable and gets up from the booth dragging Saader with him leaving just the four of them and Bolly at the booth. The Swedes seem to have disappeared between Johnny’s parade of shots and beer.

“He hates me,” Johnny flails a little dramatically sighing heavily, “Cause I’m a dick. I’m a huge fucking dick. I made Kaner cry. I made him cry, Sharpy. I’m a terrible, terrible person. There’s a special place in hell for people like me.”

Sharpy looks a little pained but chooses not to respond.

“You’re not a terrible person, Johnny,” Bolly jumps in putting down his phone that he’s been furiously texting on all night.

“But, I am,” Johnny sways a little in his seat, “I’m a fucking terrible, terrible person. I hate myself. If it were possible to punch myself in the face, I would.”

Seabs laughs, “Don’t want to hurt yourself, there, Captain. You’re already a shitty enough fighter, Johnny. Let’s not try anything too crazy.”

Johnny shrugs melodramatically and doesn’t chirp him back because he’s just feeling pathetic and wants to lament in his drunken self-pity.

“C’mon,” Duncs slings an arm over his shoulder, “Don’t be so pathetic.”

Johnny sighs and slumps even further reaching for another shot. He has lost control of his life.

“But, like – ugh, I miss Kaner. He’s the fucking best. I don’t deserve him – I never did, and now I don’t have him and it fucking sucks, man,” Johnny slurs trying to pull away from Duncs who’s anchoring him in the booth, “Just look at his stupid face and his stupid hair and his stupid everything – and he left all his shit all over my apartment, and he doesn’t even come over to hang out anymore – and it’s like I have a stupid obnoxious Kaner-shaped hole in my goddamn life.”

Duncs ruffles his hair and everyone blinks a little uncomfortably in the booth.

Johnny reaches for another shot, because it’s not like his life can get any sader.

The next morning he wakes up to someone pulling the drapes in his bedroom open letting the blinding sun come through.

“What the fuck?” he mumbles pulling his pillow over his head. He doesn’t think he’s been this hung-over since the cup or even before then in college.

He feels the pillow being pulled from his hands and blinks seeing Sharpy’s face come into view. He grumbles sitting up and then sees Duncs, Seabs, and Hoss standing beside him at the foot of Johnny’s bed looking somber.

He rubs a hand over his face swallowing the lump in his throat, “What the fuck? Is this some kind of intervention?” 

Sharpy shrugs sitting beside Johnny on his bed, “You could say that.”

“It’s too early, and I’m way too hungover for your bullshit today,” Johnny shoots back.

“We’re concerned about you, Johnny,” Seabs jumps in steadily.

“I’m fine – we’re playing well—“

“It’s not about that – last night – I haven’t seen that side of you for a long time, man. It was sad and pathetic. You were like shrinking away in front of us. Also, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink that much,” Seabs counters.

“Look, Johnny,” Sharpy jumps in, “We know breakups are hard – especially when you guys had lived out of each others pockets for so long, but you guys seemed to be handling it well—“

“You knew about that?” Johnny responds raising his eyebrows.

“Well, yeah,” Sharpy shrugs, “Kaner’s – he’s kind of a needy, emotional guy sometimes.”

Johnny scrubs a hand over his face, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Hoss says firmly, “We just want you to know that it’s okay to be upset about you and Kaner. It seemed like you’d been keeping it in since it happened.”

“It seemed like you were in denial,” Duncs adds on wincing at Johnny’s furrowed expression.

“Yeah,” Johnny bites his lip conceding; it’s not like he can tell them the truth, “I probably was.”

“It’s okay to miss Kaner,” Sharpy says quietly putting a comforting hand between Johnny’s shoulder blades, “You were together for a long time. It takes time to get over it. In time, you’ll be able to be friends again.”

Johnny doesn’t really know what to say. How is possible that everyone knew about him and Kaner besides him? He can’t take all of the concerned, serious expressions in the room. He doesn’t know what to do with all of this information. He feels dizzy and nauseous and just wants to escape.

“It might have seemed like everyone chose his side, but that’s not true, Johnny. We just want both of you to be happy. He just came to some of us when he needed it. It – it was hard for us to see you pretending like it didn’t matter. Obviously, we know you don’t feel that way. So, we’re sorry,” Seabs adds.

The four of them nod somberly in agreement, and Sharpy keeps rubbing his back soothingly, and Johnny just feels sick.

Johnny sniffles idly feeling at a loss, “Don’t be sorry.”

“It’ll get better, Johnny,” Seabs insists, “And it’s okay to let it out, alright? Just try not to bottle it up and then let it out by getting wasted and feeling sorry for yourself. I think you scarred Shawsy and Saader for life.”

“Fuck,” Johnny mumbled wiping at his eyes a little, “I’ve really lost it these last couple of days.”

“Yeah,” Sharpy replies quietly, “Look, none of us know what happened with you and Kaner. It’s really none of our business. But, it takes a lot to end a relationship. It’s hard even when it’s the right thing to do. We all know how you feel about Patrick, Johnny. Just because you ended the relationship doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be sad about it.”

Johnny blinks up at him trying to let the vertigo subside. It doesn’t really help, though. He feels like he should tell them the truth. But, he knows no one would be worried about his well-being if they knew the extent to which he hurt Kaner, and, if he’s being honest, himself.

They eventually leave promising to be more supportive and understanding. The whole situation makes Johnny just totally uncomfortable. They shouldn’t be supportive of him like this. If they knew how spectacularly he failed at being a decent human being, they probably wouldn’t even want to look at him anymore.

He kind of starfishes in his bed for a while feeling nauseous and over-whelmed – the hangover doesn’t really help, either. Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s reaching for his phone and dialing a familiar number.

“Hello?”

He sucks in a breath trying to steady himself, “Maman—“

“Oh Jonathan, I guess you’ve remembered how to use the phone—“

“Sorry, Maman,” it turns out he epically fails at trying to sound neutral.

“Is there something wrong, sweetie? You sound upset—“ his mom replies after a few beats.

He scrubs a hand over his face trying not to cry, “Patrick and I broke up.”

It might be an over-simplification of the situation, to say the least. But, he doesn’t really have the energy to explain to his mom why he’s literally feeling like he’s ruined his life.

“Oh, sweetie,” his mom sighs on the other end of the line, “I don’t—“

Johnny blinks in realization almost dropping the phone, “You knew, too?!”

“You know Donna and I keep in touch, Jonathan,” she says defensively, “I’m just surprised it took you this long to call. What happened?”

“I don’t even know,” Johnny replies vision a little blurred.

“Okay,” his mom sighs again, “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m not here to judge you, sweetie.”

“I know,” his voice breaks a little, “I really screwed this one up, Maman. I don’t even know how it happened.”

“Have you two talked about it since he got back? Donna said he was pretty upset overseas.”

“I was just—“ he breaks off trying to find the words, “ignoring how awkward it was. Everything’s so weird and nothing makes sense, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do to make it better.”

“It sounds like the two of you need some closure. It’s hard when you have to be affronted with someone almost everyday, Jonathan, I get that. But, you ignoring the problem isn’t going to make it better.”

“Nothing makes sense when he’s not around,” he’s definitely crying now, “I know it sounds stupid—“

“It doesn’t sound stupid—“

“I just—“ he makes a pathetic sound in his throat, “I can’t go anywhere without being reminded that he’s not around anymore – that we’re not – how we used to be. All his shit’s still all over my apartment – his DVDs are still on the shelves – everything reminds me of him and how much I screwed it up.”

“Sweetie, I wish there was something I could do – but this is part of growing up and being an adult. You have to deal with the consequences. If you want to be with Patrick – go and get him, Johnny. If you don’t, then, you two have to find a way to move on.”

"But,” his voice sounds absolutely wrecked now, “He hates me.”

She laughs harshly in the phone, “If there’s one thing that I now for sure about Patrick, Johnny is that he could never hate you. He may be angry with you – he may not understand, but he doesn’t hate you.”

He sucks in a breath pinching the bridge of his nose, “I hate me.”

His mom sighs and stays silent for a few moments, “You’re going to have to buck up a little, Jonathan. I can’t believe I have to tell you of all people that. You’re going to have to deal with your own feelings before you can move forward.”

“I don’t know what to do, Maman,” he sobs quietly into the phone.

“Take some time to yourself, sweetie. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Before, you even think about talking to Patrick, make sure you know what you want. Don’t make the situation worse, okay?”

He nods even though she can’t see him palming one of his eyes, “Okay.”

“I love you, honey. I know you’ll figure it out.”

“Thanks, love you, too,” he says quietly hanging up the phone.

The thing is, he doesn’t know what he wants. He knows he doesn’t want to feel this way anymore – like he’s missing one of his limbs. If he’s being entirely honest with himself, that’s what Patrick is to him – he’s an innate part of the person he’s become.

It still doesn’t make sense to him how they could be together – and everyone knew about it – without him really putting it together. Sure, they fucked – a lot – if he’s being honest. He means, technically, they were monogamous, neither one of them really had time to go out and find people. It was just easier to find comfort with each other.

Kaner’s just an assumed part of his life. He’s been since they met. He’s always around with his terrible hair and his obnoxious sneakers. He’s always making fun of Johnny and laughing and being so – Kaner. Johnny doesn’t know another way to put it. 

He makes the realization right there, lying on his back unable to sleep off the terrible hangover that has wracked his body, that he maybe loves Kaner – scratch that, he totally loves Kaner. He loves his terrible taste in movies and books, his horrendous hair, his moronic fashion choices, his obnoxious laugh, the way he looks after a hard shift on the ice, all flushed and beaming, the way he looks at Johnny (or used to) right before he comes like there’s no one else in the world, the way he murmurs in his sleep, how much he loves his little sisters and his family, the fact that he’d do anything for anyone, and everything in between. He really just loves Kaner. But, he ruined it.

He gets a text from Seabs the next morning when he’s getting ready for practice. He almost doesn’t look at it given all the guys new found interest in making sure he doesn’t feel like they love Kaner more than him – which, come on, they totally do – not that Johnny can blame them.

It turns out it’s a picture message of a jewelry box and inside are two necklaces one with a “19” pendant the other with an “88.” Johnny doesn’t know what to make of that, and Seabs follows it up with a message.

_I borrowed Kaner’s coat last week. I found these in the pocket and took a pic.I don’t want to meddle, but get ur shit together and get your guy, Tazer. Seriously, we’re all sick of this bs._

He sucks in a breath and feels like his entire world is coming crashing down on him. He doesn’t know how to handle this – but in that moment, he finally knows what he wants.

He goes to practice and blazes into the locker room determined to pull Kaner aside right then and there – and like declare his love or something. So, fine, he hasn’t exactly worked out the details. But, he’s ready to lay it all on the line.

It turns out Kaner’s at home feeling pretty sick, if everyone’s refusal to chirp him too bad in his absence is any indication. Johnny frowns because that really derails his tentative plan.

He still goes to the hospital to hang out with the kids, even without Kaner. Johnny knows he’s probably pretty upset he couldn’t come. If there’s one thing Kaner loves as much as hockey and his family, it’s kids – especially those who are down and out.

It puts a little bounce in his step seeing and talking to the kids. They never cease to amaze him. It’s probably talking to them, realizing that they see him as some type of hero, that gives him the gall to get in his car, after picking up some soup, and drive to Kaner’s place after he finishes at the hospital.

“What do you want?” Kaner snarls when he answers the door, which is difficult given that he’s shirtless and only in a pair of Spongebob pajama bottoms.

He’s looking a little worse for wear. His face is flushed from fever, and he looks pretty miserable and tired.

Johnny pushes himself into Kaner’s apartment and shuts the door trailing Kaner back into his bedroom.

Patrick gets back into his blanket fortress and looks at Johnny like he’s the worst thing he’s ever seen.

“I brought you soup,” Johnny says because it’s as good of an opening line as any.

“Gold star, Captain,” Patrick replies angrily, well as angrily as he can sound when his voice is so weak and sick sounding.

Johnny puts the take-out on Kaner’s unused nightstand and shoves his phone into Patrick’s face.

Patrick blinks at the picture warily, “Fucking, Seabs.”

“What were you going to do with those?” Johnny asks pocketing his phone.

“None of your damn business!” Kaner shouts back.

“Pat—“ Johnny whines coming to sit beside him on the bed making sure not to touch.

“Fine,” Patrick says running a hand through his disastrous curls, “I know we couldn’t like get married – could you imagine the PR shitshow? But, like it’s stupid – and really sappy and cliché, but my mom helped me pick them out. I was going to give you the one with the “88,” and I was going to wear the one with the “19” and no one matter where we were, we’d be over each other’s hearts—“

Johnny sucks in a breath.

“Obviously, I was misguided,” Kaner says bitterly. 

“No,” Johnny retorts locking eyes with Patrick, “I love you – and I’m not just saying that because of everything. I’ve always loved you, Patrick. I just – I didn’t – I just couldn’t even recognize it because you fit so seamlessly into my life. I just – I didn’t know until everything went to shit.”

“I – I don’t want to forgive you,” Patrick shrugs slowly, “You really fucked me up. I never feel like I’m good enough when you’re around. I thought I had to change for you, Johnny. I shouldn’t have to – and I won’t. I’m trying to be a better person for me – not for you.”

“I don’t want you to feel like that,” Johnny replies gripping at Patrick’s hand, “You don’t – we all have our shortcomings. I love you for them, okay? I want you to be yourself and do the things you want and mature at your own pace – and not because you feel like I’m pressuring you.”

“I don’t know if I can trust you, again – but maybe we can go slow – see where everything goes – but we have to communicate Captain Constipated, okay?”

Johnny laughs kissing Kaner’s temple, “Okay.”

“We can work up to necklaces, maybe,” Kaner smiles softly, “Maybe.”

“I can work with that,” Johnny pushing his forehead against Patrick’s and breathing him in snot and all, “For the record, you’re it for me, too.”

Patrick just smiles sniffling idly, “So you’re going to like nurse me back to health, right?”

Johnny laughs all the tension that’s built up over the past few days leaving his body, “Fat chance, Kaner.”

“C’mon,” Patrick pokes him playfully in the ribs, “You can’t just declare your love for me and refuse to spoon feed me soup. I’m DYING.”

Johnny rolls his eyes, “You’re not dying, Kaner. I’ll get you a spoon, and you can eat your soup yourself, though.”

“Fine,” Patrick concedes smiling up at Johnny, as he gets off the bed eyes glassy from fever but his smile bright, “You’re gonna cuddle with me until I feel better, though, right?”

Johnny laughs again locking eyes with Patrick. Unfortunately, there was no place he’d rather be, “Yeah – but you have to be little spoon.”

Patrick squawks half-heartedly as Johnny leaves the room, and he just smiles all the way to the kitchen and back.

Epilogue

Johnny feels dizzy with all the camera flashes and the screaming. Never did he think when he fired off that half-hazard shot, it would win him another gold medal. He smiles as Crosby gives him an uncharacteristic hug and pats his cheek telling him he did well.

He makes eye contact with Patrick from across the ice, the US team starting to file off – so close, but yet so far, again.

Patrick smiles faintly and mouths something that Johnny can’t make out. Johnny knows he’s disappointed, but he can also see something behind his expression – pride. Johnny smiles back mouthing, “love you,” taking out his necklace, the “88” pendent dangling stark against his Canadian jersey.

He does a few interviews right there on the ice, and this time, he doesn’t use any unnecessary language. He just tells them how overwhelmed he feels and how grateful he is. He tells them that he never thought it would be him.

All the while, “88” hangs from his neck, and he mouths the chain, a nervous habit he’s picked up over the last few months.

There’s nothing nervous or habitual, though, when the reporter’s about to sign off, and he purposefully flashes the camera the pendent and kisses it making sure there is no mistake what numbers are encased in the gold.

**Author's Note:**

> So, there you have it. I hope you enjoyed. Some grammar was sacrificed for style. Also, the syntax may seem a little abrasive to some, but I think it fits well with the story. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> EDIT: So, I realize two things with a quick re-read: 1, yeah, I don't know what Seabrook's doing with Kaner's coat when he's a giant, and Patrick's a midget -- he collects coats? doesn't care about fit? -- suspension of disbelief. Also, I'm not quite sure if this timeline makes sense -- but suspension of disbelief, again? I tried.
> 
> As always your comments are appreciated.


End file.
